


Paralysis

by ausfil



Category: Westlife
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, BDSM, Belts, Boyband, Caring, Caring Kian, Control, Corporal Punishment, Cutting, Discipline, Dom Kian, Dom/sub, Dominance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Friendship, Frustration, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Kneeling, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Dominance, Non-Sexual Submission, Non-sexual, Platonic BDSM, Platonic Relationships, Pressure, Punishment, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Shian, Sleep Deprivation, Songwriting, Spanking, Stress, Stress Relief, Stressed Shane, Sub Shane, Submission, controlling relationship, worrying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausfil/pseuds/ausfil
Summary: During times of stress and pressure, Shane always fell into a harmful cycle towards self-destruction and Kian always came to help him escape that, at least for a little while, in their own special way.(READ THE TAGS PLEASE for possible trigger warnings.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the making of the ‘World Of Our Own’ album when they wrote some of their own songs. This is fiction, obviously. I highly doubt that the album was made under these exact conditions. I know nothing about songwriting so I’m sorry in advance if it’s not accurate.  
> And also, in no way am I condoning/encouraging self-harm and self-destruction. If you’re going through something like this, PLEASE SEEK SUPPORT.
> 
> I just wanted to write about Shane suffering and being submissive, like I always do.

Shane was hauled over Kian’s lap, his helpless legs tucked and held in place underneath Kian’s strong one with a hand rubbing his bare bottom.

“Why are you being spanked?” Kian’s voice was low. Lethal. Just what Shane needed.

“Because I locked myself in my hotel room all day yesterday.”

“And why is that bad?”

“Because I need to take care of myself but I’m not doing that.”

Kian nodded, even though Shane couldn’t see. “Not a sound. Five minutes.” Kian looked at his watch before hitting his hand down on the pale skin.

 _Slap._ The first slap was light and easy. Almost a tap. But Shane wondered how long that would last. Hopefully not that long, because he needed more. He needed his ass to be on fire and throbbing in pain by the end of the five minutes.

_Slap._

_Slap_.

_Slap._

As the slaps increased, the power in Kian’s hand increased, and Shane was being taken away by it all. He didn’t think about the constant worries that robbed him of a decent sleep at night and the capability of doing anything else. At least until the punishment stopped.

Three minutes in, Shane felt alive. Nothing pulling him down, nothing holding him back – just Kian’s hand hitting him so damn hard, allowing him to forget everything – finally being able to _breathe_.

Four minutes in, Shane’s ass was on fire and all of his attention was on the stinging. Exactly what he was looking for. He let out little grunts with every swing that came his way with the occasional yelp when Kian decided to smack his thighs. Shane loved surprises. It kept him guessing. Almost never correct, but it was nice to use his brain for something other than thinking of ways to torture himself. It was nice to not be in control.

After an approximate five minutes, Kian looked at his watch again and stopped his hand to give the sore bottom a good rub. He felt Shane sag in comfort and heard a relaxed sigh come out.

“Are you going to lock yourself in the room after this?”

“No, I won’t. I’m sorry.” Shane’s voice was much calmer. Kian was glad.

“Good boy.” Kian gave him a final rub before telling him to get up. Shane _looked_ much calmer too – his hands weren’t shaking as he pulled his pants back up.

“Thank you, Kian.”

Kian pulled him in for a warm hug, hearing the slow and steady breaths against his ear.

“Be in bed by twelve tonight. Okay? You didn’t sleep at all last night. I know that.”

Shane nodded.

***

Shane sat on the couch alone, closing his eyes as the rest of the band were chatting and laughing whilst waiting to record a new song for their new album. Their loud and overlapped voices were ringing in his ear, and Shane could not feel more irritated. He let out a low grunt, gave them a quick glare and folded his arms. He wanted to disappear, isolate himself from all of this.

He closed his eyes. Imagined being in his own room with the door locked. Imagined escaping towards the harmful blades that always helped him when he was feeling like this. Or towards Kian who helped even more.

Their laughs got louder and Shane felt trapped. He felt his breathing speed up a bit as his chest tightened. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why he was feeling like this. Frustration overtook him in that moment of not even knowing why this reaction was happening. He kept his eyes closed and the hand that was tucked underneath his arm started to pinch at his own skin above his shirt. He started pulling, twisting, scraping, scratching. This pain wasn’t really helping his mind at all. But he did it anyway. It was like a bad habit.

Shane started to pinch harder until he felt a sting on his upper arm. He flinched and opened his eyes to find that Kian was glaring at him with a straight face and fierce eyes, shaking his head. Kian had seen Shane and sat down next to him to slap the naughty arm.

“Sorry.” Shane whispered and loosened his grip on himself.

Kian glanced at the other three who had their back faced towards them. They were still involved in their own conversation. He used this chance to lift Shane’s shirt up a little and saw the heartbreaking red marks. He bit down on his lip, sighed, and rubbed the red before pulling the shirt back down.

“Sorry.” Shane whispered once more, looking down when Kian looked up at him and his dark circles that were too obvious.

“You look tired. What time did you sleep last night?”

“Uh,” Shane scratched the back of his head, “to be honest, like, half three or something like that.”

“I thought I specifically said twelve.” Kian lowered his tone and saw Shane suck on his anxious bottom lip.

“I know but… Sorry.” Shane looked like he wanted to cry a little bit.

Kian sighed. “Why did you sleep late?”

“I was trying to write some more lyrics for some songs and then I lost track of time.”

“You lost track of time every day for like, a week now. Are you going to keep telling me that lie?”

“Um, lads, we can give you two some alone time if you want.” Brian looked uneasy as he spoke, feeling bad for Shane but not being able to do anything, along with Nicky and Mark.

The three knew of the dynamic of the relationship between Shane and Kian since the beginning. They thought it was weird at first but seeing the self-sabotaging behaviour in which Shane easily broke into, they decided that he needed Kian to be like that – to be harsh with him and discipline him in a particular way that worked for them.

“No, don’t worry.” Kian didn’t take his eyes off of Shane. “Be in bed by half eleven today. Not twelve. Okay? You need some sleep.”

“I’ll try.”

“No, you don’t _try_. You have to. Half eleven. I’m going to check on you.”

“Okay.”

***

Shane was actually in bed by 11:30 that night. Didn’t necessarily sleep at that time but he still did exactly as he was told, and he was happy to do Kian proud for once. The thought of making Kian happy made Shane feel a bit better about himself.

Because Kian was his friend who was too damn special. Because if it wasn’t for Kian, he didn’t know where he could have ended up.

Kian poked his head through Shane’s door at around 1:00 AM like he did on most days to check if Shane was in bed or not. Shane knew because he heard the door open on those nights as he pretended to be asleep, although Kian probably knew that Shane wasn’t really sleeping. But he appreciated the effort and always let it slide.

Then Shane would eventually fall asleep deep into the morning, only to wake up not even two hours later. A million thoughts in the back of his head would creep up during his sleep, hit him and wake him up before the Sun beamed. Some days, he would just lie down and stare at the ceiling for hours without any sleep until he was dragged to do an interview or a photoshoot or something with a smile painted on his face.

***

It was still dark when Shane opened his eyes, just before 4 in the morning after a bloody useful half an hour sleep. He got up, his body as heavy as ever, and dragged himself to sit at the desk, turning on the nightstand. The sheet of paper in front of him was filled with crossed-out writing, nothing that could be used for the new album. He never felt more stupid and inarticulate in his life before. He ripped the paper in half, balled it up and put it to the side before getting another sheet of paper, labelling it ‘Don’t Say It’s Too Late – lyrics’.

He grabbed onto a pen to give it another shot. Brian needed his part as soon as possible and the record label was constantly reminding him of the deadlines. Disappointing his band mates was the last thing that Shane wanted to do. He felt like he ruined enough lives already – mostly his own. So he _had_ to do this, and it _had_ to be fucking good.

 _‘It doesn’t take much to learn_  
_when the bridges that you burn_  
_leave you stranded, feeling alone’_

Shane wrote those three lines so many times. He thought of that part almost a week ago, and couldn’t go further. It was like his brain was paralysed.

At the frustration, he felt his chest tighten. He closed his eyes to try and take a deep breath. It wasn’t helping. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes again and clenched onto the pen, but his hands were shaking.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In. Out.

Every breath that he took, it got more difficult. Shallower. Once again, he started to pinch himself. The pain wasn’t enough. He needed more. A _lot_ more to be able to distract his mind. He looked around. Scissors on the table caught his eye.

Fucking perfect. He didn’t even need to think about this. It was all natural to him now.

He split it open, brought it to his inner forearm and dug in with steady hands. After countless times of practice, he knew how to cut right with a pair of sharpened scissors, applying the correct amount of pressure. He drew blood to the surface quickly, and felt fresh at the stinging pain that made him flinch. He smiled at it, loving that his mind was occupied and stolen away momentarily.

His body sagged with relaxation and relief as he slashed once more. And then a couple more times until he felt the high of the sensation fly away. He let out a sigh, tossed the scissors to the side and fetched a towel from the bathroom to dab at the blood. He wrapped it around the cuts and pressed on it, a groan of pain springing out of his mouth.

When he could make sure that the blood stopped, the towel was tossed towards the scissors and Shane grabbed the pen again. He continued to write. It all still sounded stupid – more than worthy of crossing out.

Shane sighed. He wanted Kian. He wanted Kian to make him kneel on the floor, tell him exactly what to do so he wouldn’t have to figure it out for himself.

Nevertheless, Shane shook his head and focused again. He had to do this. He clenched onto the pen and scribbled down whatever he could think of. He stayed like that for hours on end, just working himself, not even thinking about taking a break or eating.

He didn’t even realise when the Sun rose to greet the rest of the day.

***

It was dark outside. The Sun had set. Kian looked at his watch. 7:30 PM. He made his way over to Shane’s room to take him out for dinner. He knew that Shane wouldn’t eat if he was alone. He knocked on the door. No reply. After a couple of more knocks and continued silence, he creaked open the door and stepped into the dim lit room. He found Shane sitting at his desk; shoulders hunched and head hanging low. He looked so small. Kian felt his muscles tense up.

“Shane?”

Shane didn’t look back. He didn’t even seem to notice Kian’s entrance. Kian narrowed his eyes and slowly made his way to the boy who was sitting in the dark with a single nightstand on the desk. When he saw the state Shane was in, he could swear that he got a bit sick.

Shane’s eyes were red, empty, soulless. His left hand harshly clutched his own hair as he kept mumbling underneath his breath. The knuckles on his right hand were turned white from clenching the pen so hard as Shane scribbled words down, which were crossed out frantically, then repeating this. He looked like a madman.

Kian reached out and grabbed the hand that was writing. After a few seconds of resistance, he felt it give in and loosen underneath his grip. Shane eventually let go of the pen and his hair, wincing at the pain in his overworked arm muscles.

“Kian, help me…” Shane murmured and looked up. His bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes were glistening in a thin, fragile layer of tears but he wasn’t crying. “I… I need you…”

“Shane, you–“ Kian narrowed his eyes when he saw Shane’s pale arm that had multiple fresh lines of red on the precious harmed skin. “When did you do that?” He felt his heart rip, and even more at Shane who put his hand over it as a useless attempt to hide them.

“Uh this morning. I’m sorry. I was… I was just… frustrated. I had to do it.”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t _have_ to do it.” Kian let out a deep sigh and reminded himself to not rage at the already distressed boy. “What were you frustrated at?”

“Me.” Shane’s tone suggested that it was too obvious of an answer.

“Why? You’re trying really hard, Shane. We all know that. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Egan? Of course I am. I keep letting you down. I’m letting _all_ of you down. I can’t come up with lyrics that are good enough, let alone a single bar of melody. I can’t do anything that’s good enough. I’m so useless.”

Kian could sense the pure irritation that Shane felt in himself through that strained voice of his.

“I don’t want to disappoint the lads. This album needs to be successful. Simon and Louis are just screaming deadlines at us and I can’t… I can’t finish. It’s too much. This is… this is _all_ too much. I can’t do this, Kian, I really can’t. I can’t fucking come up with anything! I just…” Shane stopped himself when he realised he was raising his voice and took a deep breath. He felt tears of frustration and self-loathe tingle in his already-tired eyes.

Kian watched intently as Shane’s hands were shaking in the urge to hurt himself again. His mind tried to locate where he left the pair of scissors as he shifted a hand to the fresh cuts that he made in the morning, wanting to pick at them, wanting to feel that pain again to take his mind elsewhere. It was like an awful but automatic response that he had but Kian was quick in catching that hand.

“Stop it.”

Shane looked up at Kian with tears flash-flooding in his eyes. “Kian, what do I do...?”

“Nothing.”

Shane looked annoyed, like that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “What?”

“You do nothing. Tonight, you’re not going to do this. You’re not going to continue writing. You’re not going to be thinking about deadlines, about the band, about the record label, about the new album. None of that. If you keep thinking about those things, you’re going to ruin your body _and_ your mind. You know that better than anyone, Shane. I’m not letting that happen to you. You’re going to do exactly as I say today.” Kian dangerously lowered his tone as he gave Shane a sharp look, something to let him know what was coming his way. “Do you understand me?”

Shane nodded. His breathing was steady. Eyes determined, almost hypnotised.

Kian was always the one to prevent Shane from destroying himself completely in times of intense pressure and stress like this. Ever since high school when Shane was studying night and day for important exams, he never ate properly and barely slept – did nothing to take care of himself. So Kian had to come in sometimes, just to give him a few maintenance spankings and give him some relief by taking his mind away so that he could at least get one good night sleep.

Kian didn’t necessarily enjoy _hurting_ Shane, but rather being in control of him, _protecting_ him.

This dynamic between them never changed, even when their whole worlds were turned upside down by this insane Westlife rollercoaster. Kian was glad that some things – one of the most important things – stayed the same, except Shane had more pressure to deal with which meant more disciplining. But if that was what Shane needed, Kian was going to provide him with exactly that.

Kian locked the door and closed the curtains before sitting down on the bed right in front of the older boy. “Take your clothes off and kneel down on the floor.”

“Okay.” Shane could feel Kian’s eyes scan him up and down as he got undressed until he finally stepped out of his boxer briefs and got down on his knees.

“Spread your legs apart and put your hands on your head.” Shane was hesitant, feeling embarrassed. “Fucking do it, Filan.”

“Sorry.” Shane moved immediately, doing as he was told but not looking up into Kian’s darkened eyes. He felt his cheeks go red at the vulnerable and exposing position but he didn’t dare to move a single muscle.

Kian felt bad but he knew that it was working in relieving Shane for the moment and taking his drained mind off of the pressures. It was what he needed.

“Shane, look at me.” He did, despite the humiliation. Kian stood up and crouched down in front of the kneeling boy. “Do you know why I’m punishing you?” Shane shook his head and earned a hard, cold slap across his left cheek. “Yes, you do. Tell me why.”

Shane didn’t move a hand to his stinging cheek, regardless of the pain. He managed to keep them on the back of his head and only let out low grunts. He was proud of that.

“Because I didn’t do what you asked.”

“And what did I ask?”

“To take care of myself.”

“Exactly. It’s the same reason every time. It has been for five years so don’t ever tell me that you don’t know. It’s because I’m _worried_ about you. And don’t tell me that you’re not worth worrying about, because that’ll only get me angrier. Okay?”

Shane nodded, still looking into Kian’s eyes that softened a bit.

“You need a break, Shane. You can’t keep doing this. I know that this is all overwhelming. We’re all overwhelmed. You’re not alone. But the way you take these types of things…” Kian shook his head and sighed. “You need this. You _need_ a break.”

Shane nodded, admitting.

“I’m angry because you’re working yourself too much as always and it’s making me worried.”

“I’m sorry…” Shane finally spoke up.

“I know, darling. I know.” Kian glided his thumb across Shane’s warm cheek that was blushing even more than before. “But that’s not enough. You know what’s coming, right?” Shane nodded. “Good boy. Okay, stand up and put your elbows on the table.”

Shane lowered his aching arms from his head and got up, moving to the table and bending forward into the instructed position.

“Stick out your bottom.” Shane obeyed. Kian rubbed Shane’s bare bottom before landing rapid but light slaps all over with his hand, just to warm up the skin a little.

When Shane felt Kian’s hand leave his ass, he heard Kian unbuckling his belt. That sound always gave him shivers, like all of his dead senses were waking up.

Kian folded the belt in half and held onto the side with the buckle before cracking it in his own hand. Shane flinched at that sound, jumping up a bit and turning his head back. Kian smirked.

“Calm down. I didn’t even start yet. Face the front.”

“Sorry.” Shane bent back down and looked forward. He felt his breath get heavier.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The belt was whipped down, hard from the first blow, and left an immediate red mark across the two cheeks. Shane jerked forward but didn’t make a sound. He managed to hold it in.

One, two, three more rapid strikes. Shane let out a choked groan which only earned him three more. Then he took another dozen. Welts were branded on the fragile skin. Tortured grunts could be heard and Kian gave the boy a moment to compose himself.

“I want silence from you. Understand?” Shane nodded, desperate to obey and feel the burn again.

Kian resumed the harsh belting, and Shane’s bottom was flaring. It was nice. It was helping. It felt like with every lick of the leather belt, a burden was being lifted from Shane’s shoulders as he started to forget each little problem, one by one. He felt lighter and much more important for some reason. The pain allowed him to _feel_ by giving up control of his own body, and that was the whole point of this, really.

A low grunt escaped Shane’s lips with every smack, no matter how hard he tried to keep quiet, but Kian let it slide. He was proud of the boy for taking it surprisingly well, despite how much power he was putting into each and every hit.

They passed thirty; Shane counted in case Kian asked. It was a while until Kian asked him though. The count built up fast and Shane felt tears overtake his eyes. The stinging on his butt cheeks was severe as the heated belt kept adding on.

“How many is that so far?”

“Fo-forty seven.” Shane choked out from his clumped throat.

Hearing Shane’s tearful voice, Kian decided to give him a rest. He reached out to rub the cheeks with welts all over them, heard a gasp then a sob when his hand came into contact with it and made it hurt even more.

“Shhh. It’s okay. How many more do you think you deserve?”

Shane kept quiet. He was busy focusing on the path of Kian’s hand on his burning ass and taking in the stinging sensation it left with every little movement. Until Kian’s hand slapped down hard and stole his attention.

“Fuck!” Shane yelled and jerked forward at the unexpected blow.

“Don’t swear at me while we’re doing this. Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I won’t. Please. I’m sorry.” Shane begged with his desperate hoarse voice.

Kian smirked and grabbed hold of the belt again. “I was going to give you just ten more but because of that, you’re getting fifteen. I don’t want to hear a _single_ sound until I’m finished with you. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.” Shane squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself.

He heard the belt whistling and slashing the air before it cracked on his abused skin. Tears were filling up his eyes again with each following crack. He counted down in his head – _seven left… ow fuck, six left… five…_ As they got closer to the end, Kian put in more strength, hearing the held-back muffled sobs as Shane bit down on his lips.

The final five were almost unbearable but Shane still tried his best to quieten his sobs with the occasional sniffling getting out. After the final strike, Kian tossed the belt onto the desk.

“Okay, you may get up.”

Shane stood up, sniffling and wiping the tears that were stained on his cheeks. He could feel Kian’s gentle hands rubbing his throbbing bottom. It was turning purple with deep bruises starting to settle. It stung when Kian did that but it was also nice in a way; comforting.

“Bit better?” Kian lilted and Shane nodded, wiping away the tears once more. He was glad to hear the crying stop. “Come here.” Kian turned Shane around and draped his arms around the older boy, pulling him in close.

Shane found himself smiling as he wrapped his own arms around Kian’s lean waist tightly. “Thank you, Kian.”

“No, don’t thank me. Just… try to stop this. Please? I can’t ask for more than that, Shay. Eat, sleep, take breaks. Go and see a therapist. Do whatever you need to do to stop this. I hate to see you always harming yourself. Please… Do _something_. Find a way. I need you to do that for me. We can’t keep doing this forever.”

“I’ll try. I really will.”

“Thank you.”

Shane kissed Kian’s forehead and didn’t move his arms, not being ready to break away from the hug just yet.


End file.
